_You_ make the choice yourself." It cost Susy a struggle, and much and deep thinking and weighing--but she came out where any one who knew her could have foretold she would.
"Well, mamma, I'll make it the hay-wagon, because you know the other things might not make me remember not to do it again, but if I don't get to ride on the hay-wagon I can remember it easily." In this world the real penalty, the sharp one, the lasting one, never falls otherwise than on the wrong person.

It was not _I_ that corrected Clara, but the remembrance of poor Susy's lost hay-ride still brings _me_ a pang--after twenty-six years.
Apparently, Susy was born with humane feelings for the animals, and compassion for their troubles.

This enabled her to see a new point in an old story, once, when she was only six years old--a point which had been overlooked by older, and perhaps duller, people for many ages.

Her mother told her the moving story of the sale of Joseph by his brethren, the staining of his coat with the blood of the slaughtered kid, and the rest of it.

She dwelt upon the inhumanity of the brothers; their cruelty toward their helpless young brother; and the unbrotherly treachery which they practised upon him; for she hoped to teach the child a lesson in gentle pity and mercifulness which she would remember.